How to Spot a House with Good Bones

Have you ever heard the expression “putting lipstick on a pig”?

This expression can apply to many situations; however, I’ve never come across a more fitting scenario than in the real estate industry.

One of the hardest things to witness is showing a home to a buyer and seeing their eyes gloss over—blinded by beautiful, glistening lipstick. They envision themselves making dinner on the quartz countertops, their children running through the sprinkler system in the backyard on a hot summer day, cuddling with their partner under the skylight that’s perfectly positioned above the bed.

The glamour lures them in like a siren at sea… until the waves of reality come crashing down, sinking their ship.

Look closely beneath the dazzling quartz: it’s only being held up by flimsy cabinets and shims made from someone’s beer can. The freshly laid sod in the backyard has already started to brown because the sprinkler system isn’t functional. Oh—and that romantic skylight? It shows signs of water damage, clearly warning that you’re in for a rude interruption if a storm passes overhead.

And then you hear it.
The loud, ugly shriek of the pig.

At that moment, you’re left with two options:

Option one: Recognize that you’re officially purchasing a fixer-upper. That’s completely fine—if you have the funds, the sanity, or if the majority of the issues aren’t buried deep in the bones of the property.

Option two: Run. Run far and fast before that pig bites you on the tush.

Take it from personal experience.

The first home I bought was bright and airy. I loved it. I wanted to raise my daughter in that home’s beauty and could already see the memories being built in its soft, welcoming embrace. I had an inspection. The inspector had recommendations. I brushed them off because I just couldn’t picture myself living anywhere else.

I truly believed I could fix any of the issues.
And I was right—I did fix the issues.
And more issues.
And more issues.
And more issues.

What I wanted to be my sanctuary became my biggest burden.
Somehow, I managed to take that pig and teach it ballet.

And sure, as you can imagine, a pig doing ballet is mesmerizing… but I no longer cared to watch it perform. I had seen it backstage, without its lipstick. And even in its slippers, all I felt was disgust.

It turns out that as much as I love real estate, home renovations are not for me.

To be fair—not everyone will view the struggles of a fixer-upper as the quicksand trap that I did. Some may see it as an adventurous challenge, grabbing for branches, flattening themselves out, floating and escaping the impending doom—feeling exhilarated and alive when they make it to safety.

If that’s you—then I have some serious envy.

But if you’re like me—panicking just to breathe, fighting with everything you have to make it out—then please, take the time to look past the rouge-stained lips and listen for the grunts and squeals of the pig.